Sunday, October 20, 2002
2002 Great Floridian Ironman Race Report
Great Floridian Ironman Race Report
Prologue:
2002 has been my fourth season competing in triathlons and through this sport I have met many people and made many friends and training partners who are into “The Ironman Thing”. Never one to withhold my feelings, I have called them ‘crazies’ and ‘nuts’ and said things like “those races ought to have their finish lines at the front gate of an insane asylum.” I have always said such things partly in seriousness and mostly in admiration, and I hope that’s how they’ve been construed. The responses to such comments have always been a grin and “Your day will come.” I knew they were right, that before I moved on to saner hobbies I would have to accomplish the pinnacle of this sport, and this summer it occurred to me that if the time was ever right for me to race an Ironman it was this fall. So, despite having never completed a triathlon longer than the standard Olympic distance, in late August I signed up for the Great Floridian Ironman. And immediately starting wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into.
My preparations went phenomenally and there is really nothing I would do differently in my training in hindsight. I got in two 120 mile training rides and probably 8 other centuries, the vast majority of which included a run following the ride. I got in a half dozen 18 mile runs, a few 20 milers, and one 24 miler. I did multiple track workouts of 6x1600 on 5:20-5:25 with short recovery. I was swimming better than I ever had. My heaviest training weeks four to six weeks out included 250-300 miles biking, 50-60 miles running, and 10K meters swimming. I was healthy, fit, and raring to go!
PreRace:
I arrived in Clermont, FL very late Wednesday evening and drove to the house I had rented for the week. Thursday and Friday were surprisingly busy with things like registration, driving the bike course, assembling my bike, trips to the airport to pick up my father and my girlfriend Nicole, packing transition and special needs bags, and so on. I expected a relaxed and quiet two days but instead found myself racing to get everything done that I needed to do. But, on Friday night I was finally ready. The bike was checked in and I had decided to stick with the disc wheel despite the relatively strong winds we’d seen on both Thursday and Friday. My five (!) race bags were packed, double-checked, and ready to go – Pre-Race Bag, Bike Gear Bag, Run Gear Bag, Bike Special Needs Bag, Run Special Needs Bag – when did it become such a logistical challenge to prepare for a race? I miss running races! The wetsuit was ready to go just in case they were allowed on race morning; on Friday the lake was still one degree too warm for wetsuits to be permitted.
Saturday morning I arrive at the race site a little later than I would have liked. The place is nothing but nervous energy so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t have extra time on my hands. The big news of the morning is that the lake has dropped another degree overnight and wetsuits are legal. I’m not terribly concerned by this as the rules are the same for everybody, but the use of a wetsuit will make my swim a few minutes faster and save my legs a little so I’m certainly not going to pass on the opportunity to wear it. Five minutes before the 7:30 start and I’ve got to abandon the bathroom line. I guess I’ll just help warm the water a little like most of the other nervous and overly hydrated people wading and waiting for the start are surely doing. And as for the other, well it will have to wait until evening I guess.
It’s Go time!!
Swim:
The swim is two laps around a 1.2 mile rectangular loop in a large lake. The water is warm (hee hee) and smooth – not much else you could ask for. I’d never been in a race with one mass start before so I was a little worried about what would happen with 800 people all starting at once and heading for the same point. It really wasn’t bad at all, though. People spread themselves out nicely at the start and it wasn’t until probably 200 meters into the swim when people started congregating along the shortest direct line to swim that I encountered any flailing arms or legs. I took a couple of kicks and got slugged a few times, but I’m pretty sure I dished out at least as much as I received. The swim was a piece of cake. I felt fresh as could be and worried that maybe I was going too slowly, but I felt like I was cruising and I had promised myself that I would stay relaxed and easy the entire swim. My hand rubbed across the sand on the bottom as we finished the first lap and I stood up and started running towards shore where we would exit the water, run over a timing mat, get something to drink, and head back for lap two.
24 minutes – uh oh. Either I’ve become an Olympic class swimmer overnight or the swim is terribly short. Oh well, it is what it is, so back in the water I go for lap 2. The second lap is equally fantastic. The racers have strung out so there’s a lot less contact, but I find a nice pair of toes to draft off of, and the swim is over way too soon. I feel great and don’t really want to start the long day on the bike, but sure enough lap 2 ends quickly and I’m out of the water in 49:45. I had expected to swim around 65 minutes and had hopes of being down around 62 minutes, but as the swim was so ridiculously short I couldn’t really tell if I had done well or not. As I ran to transition I asked a few people what they had expected to swim and I got responses that ranged from 57 to 60 minutes, so it looks like I had the swim of my life despite the short course. I would like now to place a formal request to shed my nickname of “Kyle The Human Anchor”. Thank you.
The final results show that my swim was the 70th best of the day and the accepted conclusion is that the length was 2.0 – 2.1 miles.
Bike:
The swim-to-bike transition was uneventful. One nice feature was the wetsuit-peelers they had waiting for you. No struggling to get your own wetsuit off; just plop on your back, lift your legs, and voila someone’s yanked it off for you. Very cool. I grabbed my bike bag, ran into the changing tent, put on my gear and headed off to my bike. Only one thing missing. Where are the sunscreen appliers? I had been told that there would be people in the changing tent who would apply sunscreen to you so I had not put any in my gear bag. But, I had been misinformed, so off I went for 9 – 11 hours in the Florida sun sans sunscreen.
It may be Florida, but the bike course is mean, and by mean I mean hilly, hot, and windy. Right out of transition you climb a short but steep hill, so you need to be sure you are in your smallest gear and your feet are clipped in. No getting into your bike shoes on the fly on this course. The first twenty miles is full of rolling hills with some very steep (8-10 degrees) ones tossed in there. Toss in some hard turns on the descents and some very rough road with sandy spots and you’ve got the recipe for an unpleasant first hour on the bike. I didn’t mind the first hour, though. It was roughly nine in the morning and the weather was beautiful, the swim had been phenomenal, and I felt full of energy. I was deliberately going very easy at this point on the bike, but still was having difficulty getting my heartrate down to the high 140s where I wanted it. Most likely this was a result of the constant rolling hills. I was getting passed left and right but knew I would be seeing most of these people again before the bike was over.
The miles 20-35 are mostly flat and this is actually where I struggled most on the bike the entire day. I wasn’t comfortable in the saddle and the thought of another 90 miles on the bike seemed inconceivable. I was being passed regularly, I had to pee again, and as for the other, well I wasn’t so sure I’d be waiting until evening for that.
From miles 35-55 you hit the hills again as you return to the lake for the special needs pickup at halfway. The first hill you hit is the toughest hill on the course, Sugarloaf Mountain. It is an awesome hill! I loved it. It’s a half mile and very steep. For anyone who has run or biked up Tilden Rd to Connecticut Ave from the Pierce Mill in Rock Creek, it is essentially this hill. Steep! You get in your smallest gear, get out of the saddle, and just keep trying to keep turning the pedals over. I was just starting to feel good again when we hit the hill, and while no one cruises up that hill I passed a lot of suffering people there. My father and Nicole were waiting for me near the top and I’m betting I was the only person smiling the whole way up that thing. The next twenty miles were the best of the day. I felt fantastic and the rolling hills were great to break up the monotony of riding in the aerobars. At the top of Sugarloaf someone said I was in 77th place. When I rode into the special needs area at the 55 mile mark I heard 39th place. A lot of the people who passed me in bunches early on were suffering during that stretch but I was feeling great. I hit the special needs at mile 55 in just under 2:40, or a little over 20 mph, just what I had expected.
The second loop of the bike course is not nearly as hilly as the first, although it is far from pancake flat. However, it is very open and the winds definitely pick up as the day goes on. For the next 40 or so miles I continued to feel great and ride well. My pace was faster than I expected but my heartrate continued to be at or below what I wanted so I did not try to slow down. I got blown around by a few gusts of wind but all in all the wind wasn’t as bad as I feared and riding the disc wheel was a good choice. This stretch was boring. The race had strung out by now and I was riding completely solo, not another rider in sight for miles at a time. Every now and then I would pass someone who had clearly gone out too hard and was paying the price, but for the most part it was a solo, boring riding. Around mile 90 I was starting to be ready to be off the bike. Every five minutes or so I would get out of the aerobars and out of the saddle and push like I was climbing a hill just to change positions and use some different muscles. My dad and Nicole picked a completely random spot of country road to wait for me and what do you know, it was mile 100.0. 4:53 on the bike and I sure was glad to see them. The last twelve miles were more of the same. My legs were getting tired but were still feeling strong. My back was also a bit sore. But my heartrate was good and low which bode well for the marathon. I hit mile 112 in 5:28 exceeding my best-case estimate of 5:30 and was very ready to be off the bike. Problem is, I was still out in the middle of the country somewhere and clearly still nowhere near the lake. Finally I pulled into transition at 116.5 miles and 5:42:12 or 20.5mph. The extra 4.5 miles on the bike was painful and unappreciated, but at least it more than made up for the short swim. While this is my only Ironman so I can’t compare the difficulty of the bike course to other courses, other competitors were commenting that this new Great Floridian bike course is as challenging as IM Lake Placid and IM Wisconsin.
The final results show that my bike was the 31st best of the day (though the fastest bike of the day is clearly an error) and the accepted bike length was 116.5 miles.
Run:
I hobble into transition and grab my run gear bag and head into the changing tent. This time there is a sunscreen applier present and I take the extra time to make sure he lathers me up good as I’ve already been in the sun nearly six hours. It’s now two in the afternoon, clear skies and mid to upper 80s. I start the run exactly six hours and forty minutes into the race and am told I’m in 30th place. Wow, this is going better than I could have ever hoped. I’m a runner and have always been a runner. The run is my strength. Even when I’ve overdone it on the bike and struggled on the run, the run has been my strong leg. In my mind, I’m thinking I can definitely trot eight minute miles for a 3:30 marathon and a 10:10 final time. Worst case I completely bonk and limp through a four hour marathon and still come in well under 11 hours. If the run goes as well as the swim and bike I’m thinking about the possibility of 7:30 miles and a sub 10 hour finish. Shows you what I know.
The run starts out with a six mile loop away from the lake that hits a few mean hills, and then you do three laps around the enormous lake. The first mile goes roughly as expected. I don’t have my running legs yet and am kind of shuffling along. This is not unexpected; on my runs following long rides I typically wouldn’t find my running stride until the second mile or so. I hit the first mile in a little under eight minutes so I’m happy the shuffle I’m doing is a reasonable pace. The second mile includes a mean hill and I’m slowed to barely better than a walk. Worse, my legs don’t feel like they’re coming around, they feel even more sluggish. And then, in the third mile, tragedy strikes. My right hamstring knots up badly. I’m forced to a dead stop and stop and stretch it. This is my worst nightmare and I didn’t even imagine it could happen before mile 15 or so. I continue my shuffle and it’s not long before the left hamstring follows suit. My eight minute mile shuffle has been replaced with a ten minute mile shuffle and frequent stops to stretch my cramping hamstrings. This is going to be a long marathon if this keeps up.
Which it does. Somehow I keep knocking off mile after mile at a death shuffle pace. From miles 7 to 12 or so there’s something new to worry about. My stomach is clearly not handling food and drink well. I’m starting to look pregnant as it is clearly visible that my stomach is bloated and I can feel stuff sloshing around inside. And I sound like a mobile symphony. My belches play the trumpet, my backside plays the trombone, and cymbals are crashing in my stomach. I’m forced to stop and bend over from pain in my belly around mile 13, and it’s not long after that I give the ‘It’s a wafer-thin’ fat guy from Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life” a run for his money in vomit quantity and distance. I could not believe the amount of liquid that I had been carrying around in my stomach; I think now that I had not absorbed anything the entire run although I had been drinking at least one cup of Gatorade every mile.
My stomach felt better but my legs didn’t. And I was worried about dehydration as it was now the hottest part of the day and I couldn’t keep any fluids down. But, I pressed on with my pathetic shuffle interrupted by power walking whenever I felt hamstring cramps coming on. Ten hours came and went and I still had over a lap to go. My worst-case four hour marathon came and went and I still had four miles to go. Finally the finish line was in sight. I try to keep up my shuffle but I feel another hamstring cramp coming on. This is where I would stop and powerwalk to continue to make forward progress and prevent the debilitating muscle knotting, but I’m in the finishing chute and everyone’s cheering so I keep running. My hamstrings don’t care, so they knot up. So here I am, 100 yards from the finish and I need to stop and stretch. They loosen up and I hobble in the last 100 yards. I finish and I am an Ironman – a crazy, a nut, check me in to the insane asylum. My 4:47:13 marathon is humbling and terribly disappointing, but I am happy that I gutted it out and finished anyway.
My final time is 11:27:28, good for 75th place and 1st place Clydesdale 39 and under.
PostRace:
Due to my finishing chute cramping dramatics, the medical personnel take me away to check me out. I explain the situation that I didn’t really keep any fluids down the whole marathon so they keep me awhile to keep an eye on me. Eventually, the doctor decides I don’t need an IV and he gives me some chicken broth and sends me on my way. Amazingly I feel pretty good considering the 144 mile day I had just put in. The run was painful but it wasn’t hard. I just physically couldn’t run to the point that I was working hard and I think that reflected itself in how fresh I felt afterwards. I had already had nearly five hours of warming down. My legs certainly were sore and I most definitely felt like I had a long day of working out, but I wasn’t as crippled following the race as I’d expected and I recovered more quickly in the days following the race than I’d expected.
Epilogue:
So, what went wrong? I really don’t know. I’ve been told “very few people figure out the Ironman their first time”, but in hindsight I don’t know what I would do differently. My training was ideal and I had done lots of bricks so I was surprised my legs cramped like they did. I consumed lots of fluids and calories and salt on the bike; I went through 2 powerbars, roughly 10 ounces of Hammergel, 12 Succeed salt tablets, and 11-12 Gatorade bottles. I was under control the entire bike and my heartrate was where I wanted it so I don’t feel I gave too much on the bike to have a good run. Perhaps the last twenty miles on the bike when I started to get tired I should have eased off a bit, but I really don’t think I completely fried my legs on the bike, although the symptoms of my run would imply that to be the cause.
So, what now? My plan had been to be “one and done” with this Ironman stuff. And, maybe I will be. I can’t see myself doing the necessary training for this year in and year out. And I also can’t see myself resting my case on that performance when I know I am capable of so much more. I guess time will tell.
And I want to thank my father and Nicole for all their help on the course. It was so great seeing you in multiple locations on the bike when I was feeling great and it was all so much fun. And I really needed you where you were on the run so I could just put it in my mind, “just get around the lake to where Nicole and Dad are, worry about the rest later”
I also want to thank the Bonzai cycling group for including me in their training, particularly Bill Kvetkas, Kirsten Ward, and Bob Williams. I’d also like to thank the Masters coaches of the Tysons Sport&Health SwimmingWeasels for helping me improve my swim so much over the past 24 months.
Prologue:
2002 has been my fourth season competing in triathlons and through this sport I have met many people and made many friends and training partners who are into “The Ironman Thing”. Never one to withhold my feelings, I have called them ‘crazies’ and ‘nuts’ and said things like “those races ought to have their finish lines at the front gate of an insane asylum.” I have always said such things partly in seriousness and mostly in admiration, and I hope that’s how they’ve been construed. The responses to such comments have always been a grin and “Your day will come.” I knew they were right, that before I moved on to saner hobbies I would have to accomplish the pinnacle of this sport, and this summer it occurred to me that if the time was ever right for me to race an Ironman it was this fall. So, despite having never completed a triathlon longer than the standard Olympic distance, in late August I signed up for the Great Floridian Ironman. And immediately starting wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into.
My preparations went phenomenally and there is really nothing I would do differently in my training in hindsight. I got in two 120 mile training rides and probably 8 other centuries, the vast majority of which included a run following the ride. I got in a half dozen 18 mile runs, a few 20 milers, and one 24 miler. I did multiple track workouts of 6x1600 on 5:20-5:25 with short recovery. I was swimming better than I ever had. My heaviest training weeks four to six weeks out included 250-300 miles biking, 50-60 miles running, and 10K meters swimming. I was healthy, fit, and raring to go!
PreRace:
I arrived in Clermont, FL very late Wednesday evening and drove to the house I had rented for the week. Thursday and Friday were surprisingly busy with things like registration, driving the bike course, assembling my bike, trips to the airport to pick up my father and my girlfriend Nicole, packing transition and special needs bags, and so on. I expected a relaxed and quiet two days but instead found myself racing to get everything done that I needed to do. But, on Friday night I was finally ready. The bike was checked in and I had decided to stick with the disc wheel despite the relatively strong winds we’d seen on both Thursday and Friday. My five (!) race bags were packed, double-checked, and ready to go – Pre-Race Bag, Bike Gear Bag, Run Gear Bag, Bike Special Needs Bag, Run Special Needs Bag – when did it become such a logistical challenge to prepare for a race? I miss running races! The wetsuit was ready to go just in case they were allowed on race morning; on Friday the lake was still one degree too warm for wetsuits to be permitted.
Saturday morning I arrive at the race site a little later than I would have liked. The place is nothing but nervous energy so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t have extra time on my hands. The big news of the morning is that the lake has dropped another degree overnight and wetsuits are legal. I’m not terribly concerned by this as the rules are the same for everybody, but the use of a wetsuit will make my swim a few minutes faster and save my legs a little so I’m certainly not going to pass on the opportunity to wear it. Five minutes before the 7:30 start and I’ve got to abandon the bathroom line. I guess I’ll just help warm the water a little like most of the other nervous and overly hydrated people wading and waiting for the start are surely doing. And as for the other, well it will have to wait until evening I guess.
It’s Go time!!
Swim:
The swim is two laps around a 1.2 mile rectangular loop in a large lake. The water is warm (hee hee) and smooth – not much else you could ask for. I’d never been in a race with one mass start before so I was a little worried about what would happen with 800 people all starting at once and heading for the same point. It really wasn’t bad at all, though. People spread themselves out nicely at the start and it wasn’t until probably 200 meters into the swim when people started congregating along the shortest direct line to swim that I encountered any flailing arms or legs. I took a couple of kicks and got slugged a few times, but I’m pretty sure I dished out at least as much as I received. The swim was a piece of cake. I felt fresh as could be and worried that maybe I was going too slowly, but I felt like I was cruising and I had promised myself that I would stay relaxed and easy the entire swim. My hand rubbed across the sand on the bottom as we finished the first lap and I stood up and started running towards shore where we would exit the water, run over a timing mat, get something to drink, and head back for lap two.
24 minutes – uh oh. Either I’ve become an Olympic class swimmer overnight or the swim is terribly short. Oh well, it is what it is, so back in the water I go for lap 2. The second lap is equally fantastic. The racers have strung out so there’s a lot less contact, but I find a nice pair of toes to draft off of, and the swim is over way too soon. I feel great and don’t really want to start the long day on the bike, but sure enough lap 2 ends quickly and I’m out of the water in 49:45. I had expected to swim around 65 minutes and had hopes of being down around 62 minutes, but as the swim was so ridiculously short I couldn’t really tell if I had done well or not. As I ran to transition I asked a few people what they had expected to swim and I got responses that ranged from 57 to 60 minutes, so it looks like I had the swim of my life despite the short course. I would like now to place a formal request to shed my nickname of “Kyle The Human Anchor”. Thank you.
The final results show that my swim was the 70th best of the day and the accepted conclusion is that the length was 2.0 – 2.1 miles.
Bike:
The swim-to-bike transition was uneventful. One nice feature was the wetsuit-peelers they had waiting for you. No struggling to get your own wetsuit off; just plop on your back, lift your legs, and voila someone’s yanked it off for you. Very cool. I grabbed my bike bag, ran into the changing tent, put on my gear and headed off to my bike. Only one thing missing. Where are the sunscreen appliers? I had been told that there would be people in the changing tent who would apply sunscreen to you so I had not put any in my gear bag. But, I had been misinformed, so off I went for 9 – 11 hours in the Florida sun sans sunscreen.
It may be Florida, but the bike course is mean, and by mean I mean hilly, hot, and windy. Right out of transition you climb a short but steep hill, so you need to be sure you are in your smallest gear and your feet are clipped in. No getting into your bike shoes on the fly on this course. The first twenty miles is full of rolling hills with some very steep (8-10 degrees) ones tossed in there. Toss in some hard turns on the descents and some very rough road with sandy spots and you’ve got the recipe for an unpleasant first hour on the bike. I didn’t mind the first hour, though. It was roughly nine in the morning and the weather was beautiful, the swim had been phenomenal, and I felt full of energy. I was deliberately going very easy at this point on the bike, but still was having difficulty getting my heartrate down to the high 140s where I wanted it. Most likely this was a result of the constant rolling hills. I was getting passed left and right but knew I would be seeing most of these people again before the bike was over.
The miles 20-35 are mostly flat and this is actually where I struggled most on the bike the entire day. I wasn’t comfortable in the saddle and the thought of another 90 miles on the bike seemed inconceivable. I was being passed regularly, I had to pee again, and as for the other, well I wasn’t so sure I’d be waiting until evening for that.
From miles 35-55 you hit the hills again as you return to the lake for the special needs pickup at halfway. The first hill you hit is the toughest hill on the course, Sugarloaf Mountain. It is an awesome hill! I loved it. It’s a half mile and very steep. For anyone who has run or biked up Tilden Rd to Connecticut Ave from the Pierce Mill in Rock Creek, it is essentially this hill. Steep! You get in your smallest gear, get out of the saddle, and just keep trying to keep turning the pedals over. I was just starting to feel good again when we hit the hill, and while no one cruises up that hill I passed a lot of suffering people there. My father and Nicole were waiting for me near the top and I’m betting I was the only person smiling the whole way up that thing. The next twenty miles were the best of the day. I felt fantastic and the rolling hills were great to break up the monotony of riding in the aerobars. At the top of Sugarloaf someone said I was in 77th place. When I rode into the special needs area at the 55 mile mark I heard 39th place. A lot of the people who passed me in bunches early on were suffering during that stretch but I was feeling great. I hit the special needs at mile 55 in just under 2:40, or a little over 20 mph, just what I had expected.
The second loop of the bike course is not nearly as hilly as the first, although it is far from pancake flat. However, it is very open and the winds definitely pick up as the day goes on. For the next 40 or so miles I continued to feel great and ride well. My pace was faster than I expected but my heartrate continued to be at or below what I wanted so I did not try to slow down. I got blown around by a few gusts of wind but all in all the wind wasn’t as bad as I feared and riding the disc wheel was a good choice. This stretch was boring. The race had strung out by now and I was riding completely solo, not another rider in sight for miles at a time. Every now and then I would pass someone who had clearly gone out too hard and was paying the price, but for the most part it was a solo, boring riding. Around mile 90 I was starting to be ready to be off the bike. Every five minutes or so I would get out of the aerobars and out of the saddle and push like I was climbing a hill just to change positions and use some different muscles. My dad and Nicole picked a completely random spot of country road to wait for me and what do you know, it was mile 100.0. 4:53 on the bike and I sure was glad to see them. The last twelve miles were more of the same. My legs were getting tired but were still feeling strong. My back was also a bit sore. But my heartrate was good and low which bode well for the marathon. I hit mile 112 in 5:28 exceeding my best-case estimate of 5:30 and was very ready to be off the bike. Problem is, I was still out in the middle of the country somewhere and clearly still nowhere near the lake. Finally I pulled into transition at 116.5 miles and 5:42:12 or 20.5mph. The extra 4.5 miles on the bike was painful and unappreciated, but at least it more than made up for the short swim. While this is my only Ironman so I can’t compare the difficulty of the bike course to other courses, other competitors were commenting that this new Great Floridian bike course is as challenging as IM Lake Placid and IM Wisconsin.
The final results show that my bike was the 31st best of the day (though the fastest bike of the day is clearly an error) and the accepted bike length was 116.5 miles.
Run:
I hobble into transition and grab my run gear bag and head into the changing tent. This time there is a sunscreen applier present and I take the extra time to make sure he lathers me up good as I’ve already been in the sun nearly six hours. It’s now two in the afternoon, clear skies and mid to upper 80s. I start the run exactly six hours and forty minutes into the race and am told I’m in 30th place. Wow, this is going better than I could have ever hoped. I’m a runner and have always been a runner. The run is my strength. Even when I’ve overdone it on the bike and struggled on the run, the run has been my strong leg. In my mind, I’m thinking I can definitely trot eight minute miles for a 3:30 marathon and a 10:10 final time. Worst case I completely bonk and limp through a four hour marathon and still come in well under 11 hours. If the run goes as well as the swim and bike I’m thinking about the possibility of 7:30 miles and a sub 10 hour finish. Shows you what I know.
The run starts out with a six mile loop away from the lake that hits a few mean hills, and then you do three laps around the enormous lake. The first mile goes roughly as expected. I don’t have my running legs yet and am kind of shuffling along. This is not unexpected; on my runs following long rides I typically wouldn’t find my running stride until the second mile or so. I hit the first mile in a little under eight minutes so I’m happy the shuffle I’m doing is a reasonable pace. The second mile includes a mean hill and I’m slowed to barely better than a walk. Worse, my legs don’t feel like they’re coming around, they feel even more sluggish. And then, in the third mile, tragedy strikes. My right hamstring knots up badly. I’m forced to a dead stop and stop and stretch it. This is my worst nightmare and I didn’t even imagine it could happen before mile 15 or so. I continue my shuffle and it’s not long before the left hamstring follows suit. My eight minute mile shuffle has been replaced with a ten minute mile shuffle and frequent stops to stretch my cramping hamstrings. This is going to be a long marathon if this keeps up.
Which it does. Somehow I keep knocking off mile after mile at a death shuffle pace. From miles 7 to 12 or so there’s something new to worry about. My stomach is clearly not handling food and drink well. I’m starting to look pregnant as it is clearly visible that my stomach is bloated and I can feel stuff sloshing around inside. And I sound like a mobile symphony. My belches play the trumpet, my backside plays the trombone, and cymbals are crashing in my stomach. I’m forced to stop and bend over from pain in my belly around mile 13, and it’s not long after that I give the ‘It’s a wafer-thin’ fat guy from Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life” a run for his money in vomit quantity and distance. I could not believe the amount of liquid that I had been carrying around in my stomach; I think now that I had not absorbed anything the entire run although I had been drinking at least one cup of Gatorade every mile.
My stomach felt better but my legs didn’t. And I was worried about dehydration as it was now the hottest part of the day and I couldn’t keep any fluids down. But, I pressed on with my pathetic shuffle interrupted by power walking whenever I felt hamstring cramps coming on. Ten hours came and went and I still had over a lap to go. My worst-case four hour marathon came and went and I still had four miles to go. Finally the finish line was in sight. I try to keep up my shuffle but I feel another hamstring cramp coming on. This is where I would stop and powerwalk to continue to make forward progress and prevent the debilitating muscle knotting, but I’m in the finishing chute and everyone’s cheering so I keep running. My hamstrings don’t care, so they knot up. So here I am, 100 yards from the finish and I need to stop and stretch. They loosen up and I hobble in the last 100 yards. I finish and I am an Ironman – a crazy, a nut, check me in to the insane asylum. My 4:47:13 marathon is humbling and terribly disappointing, but I am happy that I gutted it out and finished anyway.
My final time is 11:27:28, good for 75th place and 1st place Clydesdale 39 and under.
PostRace:
Due to my finishing chute cramping dramatics, the medical personnel take me away to check me out. I explain the situation that I didn’t really keep any fluids down the whole marathon so they keep me awhile to keep an eye on me. Eventually, the doctor decides I don’t need an IV and he gives me some chicken broth and sends me on my way. Amazingly I feel pretty good considering the 144 mile day I had just put in. The run was painful but it wasn’t hard. I just physically couldn’t run to the point that I was working hard and I think that reflected itself in how fresh I felt afterwards. I had already had nearly five hours of warming down. My legs certainly were sore and I most definitely felt like I had a long day of working out, but I wasn’t as crippled following the race as I’d expected and I recovered more quickly in the days following the race than I’d expected.
Epilogue:
So, what went wrong? I really don’t know. I’ve been told “very few people figure out the Ironman their first time”, but in hindsight I don’t know what I would do differently. My training was ideal and I had done lots of bricks so I was surprised my legs cramped like they did. I consumed lots of fluids and calories and salt on the bike; I went through 2 powerbars, roughly 10 ounces of Hammergel, 12 Succeed salt tablets, and 11-12 Gatorade bottles. I was under control the entire bike and my heartrate was where I wanted it so I don’t feel I gave too much on the bike to have a good run. Perhaps the last twenty miles on the bike when I started to get tired I should have eased off a bit, but I really don’t think I completely fried my legs on the bike, although the symptoms of my run would imply that to be the cause.
So, what now? My plan had been to be “one and done” with this Ironman stuff. And, maybe I will be. I can’t see myself doing the necessary training for this year in and year out. And I also can’t see myself resting my case on that performance when I know I am capable of so much more. I guess time will tell.
And I want to thank my father and Nicole for all their help on the course. It was so great seeing you in multiple locations on the bike when I was feeling great and it was all so much fun. And I really needed you where you were on the run so I could just put it in my mind, “just get around the lake to where Nicole and Dad are, worry about the rest later”
I also want to thank the Bonzai cycling group for including me in their training, particularly Bill Kvetkas, Kirsten Ward, and Bob Williams. I’d also like to thank the Masters coaches of the Tysons Sport&Health SwimmingWeasels for helping me improve my swim so much over the past 24 months.
